


My days begin with your name and nights end with your breath

by somerandomindianbloke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fleur is a queen, Flowerpot | Harry/Fleur Discord's Drabble Collection, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Inspired by the Flowerpot Discord, Past Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27767686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somerandomindianbloke/pseuds/somerandomindianbloke
Summary: 'I wish I could leave you my love, but my heart's a mess.' ~Polished sapphirines glinting with self-hatred, remorse, gratitude, and so much more. He offered a half-hearted smile tinged with suffering, unable to muster any more."I missed you, Fleur."That was all he had to say, all he wanted to say. Saying that sentence felt so right, but it also hurt him immensely.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour & Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26
Collections: Flowers of Autumn





	My days begin with your name and nights end with your breath

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my submission for the drabble collection 'Flowers of Autumn' being conducted by the Flowerpot discord server. Be sure to join us with the code 'aSehvAbJJy'! A sincere thanks to Liberty Prime (gomez36000) of Hope and Healing for looking this over and offering inputs. Do rate and review, this is a style of writing that I'm not used to and I'd love opinions on the work.

Desperation. Stolen kisses under the moonlight, trying to rid themselves of their need to be with each other- such was the crux of their rendezvous in 1994. Two unlikely lovers, finding comfort in the other's embrace.

It wasn't meant to happen, nor did they want it to- not thinking highly of each other at first. A spur of the moment, impulsive encounter brought them together. They couldn't bring themselves to regret even a minute of it.

During the time that they spent with each other, they felt as though they were worth something- that they belonged. The problems of the world didn't matter, nor did the opinions of other people. Fleur Delacour and Harry Potter were content with each other, wanting nothing more from the moments that they shared.

Both of them were aware that it wouldn't work out, neither of them cared.

They stole every moment possible for themselves in fear of it ending all too soon. The couple was desperate for that extra second that they might miss, they already had so little time.

They made a habit of walking along the shore of the great lake, hand in hand, at midnight. Slow and steady steps taken in unison, portraying beauty in a uniform manner. They were beautiful, albeit they were sad souls wandering together, but beautiful all the same. Choosing to stop, to rest whenever they felt the need to.

Sitting under the moonlight, few words being spoken as they lie down next to each other, revelling in each-others presence. These were the moments that brought endless joy to them, just being with one another. The hearth, the warmth that they felt was enough to match a thousand suns- enough to light up the world many times over. Content. They were content to just be with each-other. As they basked in the luminescence, Harry began to sing.

Fleur loved it when he sang.

His voice wasn't anything special, not to anyone but her. He had a very soft, breathy singing voice- gliding from note to note, not caring about lyrics all that much. Whenever he sang, his voice painted the most beautiful images out of the words being said. Harry always sang to her at night, it was their ritual. She could hear the emotion in every word, every syllable, it warmed her heart- he made her feel as if she were bigger than something than just herself. They had no concept of time, or of rhythm. All that mattered was the company and the song, no matter how badly sung.

All that mattered to her was him.

They say that a person's eyes are the gateway to their soul. Every time she looked at him, she hoped that he could see the care and sheer adoration in hers. She hoped that he'd notice how her eyes light up every time that he speaks, every time he smiles.

Because she noticed.

She noticed how his eyes shone with love when he looked at her, how they brimmed with tenderness and affection. How they were filled with glints of happiness, and how that made them even more beautiful.

She leaned closer to his figure, latching onto his warmth- desperate for the comfort that he provides her. Enveloping him in her arms, she sighed in contentment. She was where she belonged, where she wanted to be, and she had no real want to move elsewhere. They stared up at the night sky and relished in the presence of one another, not wanting the moment to end.

To anyone that observes, an entanglement of silver and black would be seen. To anyone that looks at their eyes, the reverence and love for one another would be painfully obvious. Alas, so would the hurt and regret. Their relationship was colourful, bursting at the seams with all hues of the spectrum, yet it fluctuated. Three shades were the most prominent, showcasing the depth of them.

One could sometimes look at the two of them and see the soft, ethereal, lavender hue that was enveloping the two of them- speaking of the love and adoration that they felt for one another. It would only be visible for a moment, and be ever so soft that it could be written off as a trick of the eye. But the lavender was a part of them, a part of who they were, a part of who they would be.

Blue, alternating shades. Going back and forth between lighter and darker renditions of the colour, each providing different meanings. Nodding towards the serenity that they would have been feeling at the time, hinting at their peaceful wants and desires.

Grey. Emptiness. Loss. The realisation of inevitable departure, separation that couldn't be helped. It drowned them in sorrow and regret every single time that it appeared.

Sometimes, the most beautiful thing would happen. The colours would meld together, singing in harmony, forming the most beautiful symphony of emotions that one could think of. These moments were hard to get by, and impossible to forget.

Them laying together underneath the moonlight was one such moment. It was truly a beautiful sight. To reiterate- to anyone that observes, the entanglement of silver and black would be shrouded in a harmony of lavender, blue, and grey- signifying the perfection of that very moment.

They stared up at the sky, as Harry continued to sing. His voice gently easing her worries, making her realise the futility of panicking and over-thinking the present. The sheer soft nature of his voice soothed her, bringing the lavender to prominence. Her eyes began to droop, as she slowly drifted into the realm of Morpheus.

They both knew it wouldn't work out, but that didn't stop them. It was only a matter of time.

Time.

Time is always a tricky, fickle thing. It always passes someone by when they're truly happy, ending a moment before anyone wants it to. Such was the case with them, for it didn't last. Before either of them knew it, their worlds had turned upside down. They were off to do their own things and deal with their own lives, with not even so much as a goodbye.

He was hurting, and he was hurting badly- due to no fault of his own. Watching the death of someone you know in front of your own eyes would have been too much for anyone to process, let alone handle.

She longed to comfort him, to provide him with assurances, to whisper sweet nothings in his ear as she held him close. To her, it was a need to protect her own. He counted, he was a part of the handful of people that she considered to be her own- those whom she could wholeheartedly love and trust.

They wouldn't work out, she knew that and so did he- there were too many issues. For one, she was older than him- not enough for it to make a difference once they were both adults, but just enough to spark judgement in those that knew them. Another problem was the distance, she lived in France, Harry lived in England. They wouldn't have been able to make it work. Fleur Delacour had a million reasons and a billion excuses for why Harry and her would never work out, but somehow, they didn't make it hurt any less. Empty excuses never made an impact on how she felt, never sugar-coated her emotions.

Leaving him hurt more than she thought it would have.

* * *

Autumn, like all seasons, was a period of change. Leaves fade and fall, drifting away in tandem with the blowing wind. Colours fluctuate, moving towards the paler ends of the spectrum- giving a rustic feel to the season. It was barely spring, and autumn still managed to call to him.

Change was a constant in his life, for nothing was ever sustained. There were patterns followed, traditions kept intact, but never the bonds. Harry lacked stability in his life. Throughout his time on Earth, he has gotten shock after shock- always being kept on his toes, never allowed the liberty of relaxation.

He could not relax, could never stop. If he did, he'd be helping to usher in an age of darkness. Normalcy was not a term that could be associated with him.

Obviously, when one is in such extenuating circumstances, they would long for some sort of companionship or the other. Abandonment issues would be the norm, as would living in constant fear of loss. A justified fear, but a fear nonetheless.

Harry Potter thought that he had found needed companionship in her. A kindred soul, so to say. Needless to say, these illusions of his were shattered after the tournament ended. No goodbyes, not even a lousy note or a letter. Yet, he couldn't bear to hold it against her.

Life went on, as it was meant to. Harry continued to fight the good fight, taking a spearhead role in the war being waged, desperate to make a change. He always looked forward to Autumn, and it was getting closer. It beckoned to him every single day. Perhaps it was nostalgia, or perhaps he was a broken record- clinging to what he had lost. The war dulled the pain and anguish that he felt on a day to day basis, funnily enough.

That is, of course, until he saw her again. In England. Engaged.

He denied the heart-throb, the feeling of betrayal that he felt. Claimed that it was pure coincidence that they didn't seem to meet, nothing else. Harry said that he was happy for them, truly.

Truthfully? It was very easy to find bullshit excuses to avoid a person, especially during a war. The war required all his focus, not the heart-break that he underwent. Of course, he couldn't escape it all. He still felt Fleur's forlorn glances sent towards his way every time they were in each other's vicinity, her eyes apologetic and filled with what appeared to be sadness. He hadn't smiled in what seemed to be years.

Harry marched on.

He kept on marching, kept on moving forward. Battles were won, family was lost. It was a routine that he was used to, confirming his theory of the universe being a one-trick pony- only dealing in loss. Bearing the burden of the wizarding world, he kept on going. He eventually neared the end of the road, the choice that one would dread. To choose. To win or to lose.

One thing that no one could accuse him of was being a coward. Harry always faced his fears, his enemies, his challenges. When the choice came, he fought to win. There was nothing to be gained, yet he still rose to the challenge. Perseverance carried him throughout his trials.

_He threw his life away._

Given the choice, he threw his life away just to make it so that his friends could live to see another day. He went and offered up his existence and health- the mark of a true hero. Self-sacrifice. That's how his story began, and that's how it would've ended. Alas, the blissful slumber that many had come to know as the next great adventure had eluded him. Why?

_He had a duty._

Death was a fickle being, yet it was an old friend of Harry's. Understanding his need, his pride, his _duty_ \- Death conceded, allowing him to obtain the victory that he had rightfully earned. He was a brave soldier, a hero. He would have ended up greeting Death with open arms had it wished to take him, accepting and resigning himself to his fate.

Harry Potter was no longer the Boy-Who-Lived.

He, however, was now the saviour of the Wizarding World.

What does a soldier do when there are no more wars left to fight? How does a soldier adapt to the state of normalcy, get used to the concept of safe-living? Most soldiers who come back from war-torn countries are unable to sleep comfortably on beds, fearing that they were soft enough to lose themselves in. A soldier that had been surviving on rations for the longest time would be unable to eat a proper meal, barely stomaching the amount that they're used to. Some end up without jobs, some end up homeless- they all end up without meaning.

How does a soldier that has survived on the barest scraps of human decency, one that has barely known love, acclimatize to a supportive environment? To the end of the atrocities, the war?

See, that's where people get it wrong.

_The war is over- there is no war._

A treacherous thought if there ever was one- there was always some battle to be fought. There was always some funeral to attend, someone to mourn. It didn't matter whether they succeeded, there was always a war.

There was no reprieve for him, constantly reminded of what he lost, what they lost. War does that to people, there is never an escape from what they have seen. The bodies lying in his mind, the skeletons hiding in his closet.

They say a person's eyes are the gateway to their soul. His eyes were empty. They glistened a dull emerald, having lost all their shine as he grew up, as he was made to grow up. No signs of life, yet not a lack of existence either.

They say a person's eyes are the gateway to their soul. Their eyes were filled with sorrow, they saw him walking alone, talking alone. Their eyes were filled with grief, repentance, guilt. He had served his purpose.

_There is no war._

How could they say that? There's still plenty they need to do. There is still plenty that _he_ needs to do. He could not afford to be lax, to feel secure. He was not safe, no one was. How could anyone be safe? Delusions.

* * *

It had been an hour. He had been there for an hour, unable to move from where he was stationed. It felt like a week, or a month, or even a year.

He hadn't slept in a week.

He couldn't take his eyes off of the body. It wasn't there anymore, but he still could see it as clear as day. He could still feel the pain.

It was hard to stomach a loss disguised as a win. He knew they lost, no one else did. Tom never loses, never dies. He could be on the other side and still be winning, still be able to take away everything from him.

For the first time in years, Harry cried. He cried until he physically was unable to continue, screaming in anguish, and shaking in pain. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people looking at him, wanting to approach him, wanting to help. No one did, and they were better off for it.

Emerald eyes glistened with tears, with memories of people long gone. Never to come back.

The great hall was filled with people- volunteers to help with repairs, teachers to keep the school intact and running, and healers to tend to anyone that so needed yet it still felt so empty. It lacked purpose. It lacked life.

Most of the students at Hogwarts had gone home, far away from the castle, some never to return. Rightly so. It hurt Harry to see all the children, who were so excited to learn magic and discover an entirely different world, be dragged into warfare and have their lives at risk. No one deserved to have that kind of environment around them as they learnt and grew up. He had taken the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he'd be damned if anyone else even tried to take such a burden on themselves as long as he was around.

He couldn't breathe. He hadn't been able to for the longest time. Harry Potter has been suffocating for the better part of three years. He lost his ability to take in a lungful of air when the war got real, when the Burrow was attacked. His breathing got shallower as it went on, as atrocities were committed, as people died.

Truthfully, Harry felt haunted by the eyes all around him, both familiar and strange. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he was being watched, followed by the mistakes he made.

He had failed in doing what he needed to do, and he understood that very well. He understood that through the battles he was fighting, the war with himself.

He knew he failed because the voices told him that he did.

Unable to stop the flow of tears, Harry got up and started walking. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to go.

He walked through the halls of the castle that was in repair, aimlessly wandering, trying to find solace in the walls of what he thought to be his home. Still empty. He decided to make his way to the Astronomy Tower, lamenting the fact that he no longer felt warmth exuding from Hogwarts.

As he was climbing up the staircase, he realised that he hadn't been keeping track of time for a while. A quick tempus charm showed that it was right at the break of dawn. Hoping to catch a sunrise and try to make sense of what has been happening around him, he moved forward. As he reached the top of the tower, his heart stopped.

_It was her._

She stood there, gazing upon the unsightly grounds of Hogwarts. She was still as beautiful as the day they first met- glowing softly under the receding moonlight, awaiting the change in horizons. He longed to reach out to her, to hold her close, to depend on her. No, he couldn't.

Harry knew that he would be the last person she'd want to be around at that moment, they weren't that close anymore and their interactions were limited, mostly due to his own fault. She needed space, why else would she be in one of the most secluded spots in the entire castle? Even though his heart went out to her, he couldn't bring himself to approach her during her time of privacy.

He was a coward.

Every time that he saw her, all he could think about was the feeling of betrayal that washed over him when Bill introduced her to the Weasleys as his fiancé. It was petty, it was childish, but it was still what he felt. Their entire dynamic was filled with unresolved issues, dating back to the time that they had first met. She had left during his time of need, the time where he had no one in his corner. Even after three years, he still couldn't bring himself to blame her wholeheartedly, taking most of the responsibility for the estrangement.

"Harry?"

Her voice sounded feeble, which was fair enough considering the circumstances in which they were meeting again. He had managed to avoid her for the most part, and had no direct interaction with her over the last two years.

"..."

Harry couldn't bring himself to say anything, inwardly cursing himself out for standing there long enough to draw her attention. She began to move towards him, reaching out as she did so. Maybe it was his war-honed reflexes, or the unbearable sadness that he experienced anytime that he saw her but Harry recoiled, taking a step back involuntarily. With much difficulty and a whole lot of pain, he brought his gaze up to match hers. His heart panged, and he was taken aback by the amount of emotion in her eyes. Polished sapphirines glinting with self-hatred, remorse, gratitude, and so much more. He offered a half-hearted smile tinged with suffering, unable to muster any more.

"I missed you, Fleur."

That was all he had to say, all he wanted to say. Saying that sentence felt so _right_ , but it also hurt him immensely.

He didn't know who took the first step, but suddenly they found themselves in a tight embrace- unwilling to ever let go again. He hadn't been able to notice but there was no longer a ring on her left hand, having been long disposed of.

Harry finally understood what it meant to see lavender, to feel at home. He had never grasped the concept of experiencing colours until that very moment. He saw a myriad of colours envelop them as they held each other- different shades of blue, lavender, grey, and black were swirling around them.

Everything was not alright, this being only the first step. But it was only a matter of time before they attained the comfort that they so desperately desired.

Time.

Time is always a tricky, fickle thing. It always passes someone by when they're truly happy, ending a moment before anyone wants it to. This time, however, it didn't. They had each other, and there was no letting go this time around. As before, Harry and Fleur were content in the moment that they were having.

* * *

The seasons changed, and so did they. The summer was spent mourning, grieving the loss of what had been lost- of who had been lost. Reforms were made, trials were held. The war had ended, and the fact had begun registering in Harry's mind. The sorrow lingered, so did the anger that he had directed at himself. Every funeral that he had attended was a blow to his heart, and every eulogy that he had to give was his attempt at an apology. Yet, he persevered.

Because she stayed.

That thought warmed his heart considerably as he realised he had a home. He had something to look forward to returning to at the end of every day, he had his special someone.

The months passed him by, as the world slowly approached autumn. The leaves changed their colours from a lively green to a reddish orange colour, preparing for their inevitable freedom as they would fall.

He spent every free minute with her, wanting to make the most of however long she stays for. His days would begin with her name, and nights would end with her breath. It took a while for him to realise, but he was in love with her. So truly and desperately in love with Fleur Delacour. Harry planned to tell her when the time was right, still needing to work through the abandonment issues he had.

The opportunity arose during All Hallow's eve. It was always a terrible day for Harry, one that had taken a lot from him. This particular Halloween, however, was different. Harry was held and comforted by Fleur for the entire day. She knew how much he hated the day, and she had been actively trying to make sure that the first Halloween they shared together wouldn't be as bad. He loved her all the more for it.

The day drew to a close, but both of them still remained in a tight embrace.

"Harry?" A sleep-addled Fleur began, barely audible. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You've not done anything that warrants an apology, nothing at all." Confusion evident in Harry's voice as he tried to understand why she's apologising, "In fact, I should be thanking you right now. Halloween has not been a nightmare for once, and it's all thanks to you."

She shook her head lightly before she burrowed deeper into his chest, wanting to revel in his warmth once more. "I left when you needed me," slight sobbing could be heard from where her head was, and guilt oozed off of her every word, "I left you to carry the burden of thousands on your shoulder, all alone. I'm so sorry." By then, it was evident that she was crying as tears soaked his shirt- nearly drenching it. He cupped her chin gently, bringing her face up to meet his. "That was lifetimes ago, Fleur. I never held it against you, I'm just glad I have you back." As emeralds met sapphirines, she could see the love and honesty in his eyes- not even a shred of doubt present.

"I love you."

With that, all the two of them saw was lavender.


End file.
